


Starting From Zero, Got Nothing To Lose

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Harley had a bad childhood, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Leaving Rose Hill had been an inevitability. Harley Keener loathed everything about the town, and the town loathed everything about Harley Keener. He heard the whispers between the church ladies in the aisles of Wal-Mart as he stocked the shelves. He saw the sideways glances as he walked home from the local garage with his tattered clothes covered in sweat and grease. He felt it when the football team cornered him behind the school and beat him down until he was bruised and broken, covered in blood, dirt, and shame.AKA Harley runs away to New York City, not expecting to fall for Queens' webslinging vigilante and the cutest boy he'd ever seen
Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	Starting From Zero, Got Nothing To Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?!” and/or “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” 
> 
> CW for homophobic language in the first chapter
> 
> Title is from Fast Car by Jonas Blue

To be quite honest, Harley didn’t know what he was expecting when he stepped out of the JFK AirTrain terminal and onto the Howard Beach subway station. Certainly not a warm breeze with just a hint of ocean salt, and a bit more than just a hint of stale urine. There were no skyscrapers in sight, just a quiet neighborhood with graffiti-covered storefronts. There was no cacophony of car horns and yelling as he had braced for. Instead, his eardrums were filled with the rumble of airplane jets overhead and the distant thrumming of a train, and aside from that, a comfortable quiet. Wait- fuck- the train.

Harley jumped, swiftly quadruple checking that he was on the Brooklyn bound platform as instructed, as the A train quickly advanced on the station. It looked like it was hauling ass, he briefly noted, before hiking his oversized backpack farther up on his shoulders and picking up the handle on his suitcase. The train came to an earsplitting screeching halt and the doors slid open with a soft  _ thunk _ . He quickly dragged his suitcase on and found a mostly empty train car, minus the homeless man sprawled out on the bench of seats at the opposite end. The blonde wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell permeating the car and sat down on the disgustingly orange seat, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A mistake, he realized, as the train lurched to a start just as jarringly as it had stopped. Scrambling for a hold on his suitcase that had started to roll away, Harley began to lose himself in his thoughts. This whole experience was… strange to him. 

Originally, when Tony had learned about his plans to come to New York, the billionaire had insisted on Harley taking a private jet directly to Stark Tower. Much to his disappointment Harley had turned his nose up at the concept (no, he wasn’t bitter about Tony throwing his wealth around, not at all) and remained steadfast on doing things the normal people way, with his own money that he had been saving up for years. Thus, he booked a flight to John F. Kennedy International Airport and researched how to get to Times Square by subway. 

He was beginning to regret that decision. Harley had never been on a plane in his life, and Rose Hill, Tennessee and its surrounding towns were far too tiny for any form of public transportation. He was wildly out of his element and getting more and more overwhelmed by the second. It was hard to comprehend how New Yorkers could ride the subway like this on a daily basis. He supposed he would have to learn to deal. The city was going to be his new home for the foreseeable future, after all. 

At least the subway ride was around an hour. It gave him time to sort out the tumultuous thoughts roaring around his head. 

At least he wasn’t in Tennessee anymore.

Leaving Rose Hill had been an inevitability. Harley Keener loathed everything about the town, and the town loathed everything about Harley Keener. He heard the whispers between the church ladies in the aisles of Wal-Mart as he stocked the shelves. He saw the sideways glances as he walked home from the local garage with his tattered clothes covered in sweat and grease. He felt it when the football team cornered him behind the school and beat him down until he was bruised and broken, covered in blood, dirt, and shame.

_ “Did ya hear about that Keener boy? Mary-Ann heard from Sue Marsh that he got caught shackin’ up with Aiden Jefferson.” _

_ “I heard his mama don’t do nothin’ but drink herself to death since his dad up’n left. Don’t blame him one bit. Probably knew his son would end up fruity.” _

_ “Rose Hill ain’t got no room for fags, Keener. Guess we gon’ have to beat it outta ya.” _

Harley was 16 when he got expelled from school for fighting. Harley was 16 when he started working two full-time jobs to support himself and his sister Abby ‘cause lord knew his mama was barely holding on to her job at the diner. Harley was freshly turned 18 when he called the man who broke into a garage when he was a kid and borderline begged for a place to stay in NYC. 

Tony Stark: self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, more commonly known as Iron Man. To Harley, he was The Mechanic.

Harley had been in fairly regular contact with Tony since the Mandarin incident at the end of 2012, but the two had drifted farther apart with time. Their monthly calls became bi-monthly, and then tri-monthly. It had been around a year of no contact when Harley, mid 3am breakdown, dialed the hero and spilled his heart out. Harley shipped out to New York City not even a month later, leaving his sister behind with the promise that he would bail her out soon enough. 

_ “This is: 34th Street Penn Station. Transfer is available to the M34 select bus service. Connection is available to the Long Island Railroad, NJ Transit, and Amtrak. The next stop is: 42nd Street Port Authority Bus Terminal. Stand clear of the closing doors, please,” _ a robotic voice jolted Harley out of his daze. 42nd street. That was his stop. He quickly shook his head, as if that simple movement could shake the years worth of trauma from his brain, and looked around. The nearly empty train car had filled substantially, and Harley swallowed nervously as he realized he’d have to fight his way through the crowd to get off the train. His knuckles went white around the suitcase handle and he only wobbled a little, thank you very much, as he rose to his feet while the train rocketed through the tunnel.

It turned out Harley shouldn’t have been so worried about fighting his way off. The surge of people making their way through the doors was strong enough to carry him entirely. He stumbled onto the platform and was immediately assaulted with a thick blanket of humidity and maybe the worst stench he’d ever experienced. Holding back a gag, he made his way above ground. 

Oh. 

This was more what he was expecting. 

Times Square was stunning, overwhelming, and disgusting, all in one. 

Harley found himself standing in the center of the sidewalk staring at neon signs and flashing adverts. Around him, sweating businessmen in sharp suits raced by. Tourists sporting fanny packs slowly meandered. Taxi cabs screamed down what he quickly realized as 8th Avenue at speeds that were probably not legal. And by fucking god, was it loud. Horns beeped, loud music played, and out of control children shrieked. Snippets of random conversations whizzed by his ears. Somewhere nearby a busker was drumming along to a popular song. Harley was pretty sure he was in a state of mild shock as he looked up and down 42nd street, looking for Tony’s iconic eyesore. 

Six and a half minutes later he practically fell through the doors into the cool lobby, drenched in a layer of sweat. He stood off to the side of the entryway, stretching out his arms as if to physically embrace the air conditioning. New York City was up north, he wasn’t expecting this level of disgusting August heat. Realizing how ridiculous he must look Harley scanned the room for the reception desk. Happy Hogan was waiting with a disgruntled expression on his face. From what Harley had been told, that was just a permanent feature. A couple of long strides, suitcase rattling behind him, and Harley was face to face with him.

“Harley Keener?” Happy asked, voice gruff.

“The one ‘n’ only,” Harley smirked, slipping back into what Tony called his ‘insufferable teenage asshole’ persona. No one was allowed to see Harley emotionally vulnerable but himself. And apparently Tony, on rare middle of the night phone calls. Happy grumbled something under his breath that Harley couldn’t catch, ears still ringing from the chaos outside. 

“Great. Follow me, kid. Tony wanted me to give you a tour of the penthouse,” Happy instructed, tone void of anything but mildly annoyed resignation. “Bastard realizes I’m not a babysitter, right?” he muttered, this time loud enough to be heard. Harley had to swallow a sarcastic retort. Nothing about this situation was ideal, but Tony was putting him up last minute and the last thing he wanted to do was step on any toes or piss off his head of security. The concept of homelessness wasn’t exactly appealing. Besides, the trip had been utterly draining and all he wanted to do right now was find his bed and sleep for about twenty years. And shower. The internet didn’t lie when it said the subways were disgusting. Harley felt filthy in a way that working on a farm could never reach. 

Harley wasn’t gonna lie, he zoned out through most of the tour. Happy’s disinterested tone and general aura of ‘I don’t give a fuck or get paid enough for this’ made for a spectacularly lackluster experience, and he figured he’d learn his way around pretty quickly after a day or two. He may have gotten expelled, but he did still have a brain rattling around in his skull, after all. For what it was worth, the building was stunning.  __ It was a fascinating mix of ostentatious and modern, which was undeniably Tony, and comfortable and homey. That, Harley decided, he would chalk up to Pepper Potts, the one woman who could keep Stark in check.  _ Thank god for small miracles, _ he chuckled to himself. 

Happy had taken him on a winding route through various labs on the lower floors of the penthouse.  _ What kind of penthouse has multiple floors?? _ As they passed through Harley noted one lab where a very familiar form was hunched over a desk, with someone young sitting right next to him. They were laughing about something, and Tony clapped the kid on the back. Harley allowed himself a second of confusion before snorting to himself. Of course Stark would pick up another genius child. He wasn’t anything special. Happy’s earlier statement about not being a babysitter suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Kid, are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” Harley snapped back to attention, at least having the modesty to look sheepish. Happy did not look, well, happy. “This is your stop. Everything you need should be in there. Ask FRIDAY if you have any other questions, I have important shit to do.” The head of security had deposited him in front of a bedroom that was three times the size of his space in Rose Hill.  _ Wait, what the fuck is a FRIDAY? _

“Uh, thanks, man. Stellar tour. 10/10.” Happy rolled his eyes and left the 18 year old standing in the hall, mind reeling. After tentatively stepping inside Harley found himself struggling to scoop his jaw off the floor. He had expected Tony Stark to go all out, but this. This was insane. A king-sized bed, an enormous walk-in closet, and an en suite bathroom that he could run laps in? His dilapidated old farmhouse could  _ never. _ Floor to ceiling windows looked out over the entire lower half of Manhattan. A desk was set up on one wall, complete with multiple monitors, and a bookshelf was fully stocked on various textbooks on engineering and coding. It wasn’t just a spare room, Harley noted. It had been specifically set up with him in mind.

Harley didn’t deserve this. He was a nobody, a scrappy outcast from Hickville, Tennessee. Once again he found himself crushed by how overwhelming this move was turning out to be. He was out of place in every way. A total fish out of water. A southerner in the big city, dingy hand me downs amongst Ralph Lauren and Gucci belts. But somehow? Harley Keener felt right at home. 

Harley had just stepped out of the shower when a robotic Irish voice sang from the ceiling.

  
_ “Mr. Keener, Boss has requested your presence in his personal lab. He said he has someone he’d like you to meet.” _

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic in this fandom uwu
> 
> updates might be slow but imma try my best! thanks for reading


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